


#14:	Keep a picture of your first fish, first car, and first boy/girlfriend.

by Knitwritezombie (Missa_G)



Series: 100 Rules for Adults (That Clint Barton Never Learned) [14]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Meeting the Family, Painkillers, awkward photos, prom pics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 02:45:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2412101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missa_G/pseuds/Knitwritezombie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Phil make it to Phil's mom's house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#14:	Keep a picture of your first fish, first car, and first boy/girlfriend.

“Phil!” Mrs. Coulson, shorter than her son by a good six inches, with neatly coiffed grey hair, dressed in jeans and an Iron Man t-shirt, embraced Phil as they walked through the door.

“Hi, mom,” Phil said, carefully hugging her back. Clint hung back, suddenly anxious about meeting his partner’s mother. He’d spoken to her over the phone before, and he knew she didn’t hate him, but meeting her in person was a bit different.

“What happened to you?” she asked, letting him go and holding him at arm’s length, studying him with a critical eye. 

“Pick-up game of basketball got a little rough,” Phil lied smoothly. “I’m okay.”

“Phillip Coulson, I taught you to lie better than that,” she scolded fondly.

Clint snorted a laugh, which drew the woman’s eye to him. 

“You must be Clint,” she said, her voice warm. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“You too, ma’am,” he said, accepting the hug with grace that had taken years to develop as he realized that not everyone was out   
to kill him when they got close.

“Maggie, please,” she said. She repeated the process of holding him at arm’s length for inspection. “Same basketball game?” she asked with a wink.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered contrarily with a cheeky grin.

She patted him lightly on the cheek with a smile. “You boys do know that Nick Fury read me in on what Phil does years ago, right?”

Clint laughed at the sound of Phil’s face hitting his hands. “Of course he did,” Phil muttered.

Maggie stretched up to kiss Phil’s cheek. “Sweetheart, I was with the FBI. SHIELD isn’t exactly unknown to me. Now, go put your bags down and I’ll see what I can dig up for a late lunch for you two.”

They dumped their bags in the guest room (not Phil’s childhood room, since his parents had bought this house after Maggie’s retirement from the bureau), and ended up back in the living room downstairs. 

“Can’t believe my mother knows Nick Fury,” Phil was grumbling as Clint took a tour around the room, glancing at pictures and knickknacks on tables and bookshelves. 

He drew up short at a photo of Phil at a formal dance from the looks of it, dressed in a white tuxedo that didn’t fit all that well. His partner was dressed in a very poofy pink dress that reminded Clint of Kaylee’s party dress from Firefly that he’d been forced to watch by Phil (he’d still be Coulson then, and Clint had developed pneumonia after nearly drowning). She also had very big hair. They were standing in next to a white two-door car with a mask over the front end. “Phil?”

Phil wandered over. “Oh, god, I can’t believe she still has that picture,” he groaned. “Senior prom. First girlfriend and first car,” he explained.

Clint leaned back lightly against Phil’s chest as Phil’s left arm wound around his waist. “You didn’t have your first girlfriend until senior year?” he asked.

He felt Phil shrug his good shoulder. “I was a quiet kid. It took me a long time to work up the confidence and bamfery that the junior agents go on about,” he said, his tone an odd mix of self-deprecating and honesty. “Fury had a lot to do with that, recruiting me right out of high school. I was a leader, sure, but my personal life was kind of a mess.” He hugged Clint again lightly, and then led him toward the couch.

Clint caught Phil’s wince as they settled. “You okay?”

Phil nodded. “Meds wearing off.” Though just as stubborn as Clint in many ways, Phil was much better about taking medication to allow his body to heal; Clint had grown up without access to anything beyond aspirin and working through pain was just a part of daily life.

“Bring them down with you?” Clint asked, and Phil nodded as his mom entered with a tray bearing two bowls of tomato soup, grilled cheese sandwiches cut into sticks, two glasses of milk and a cup of tea. 

They ate and chatted with Maggie, Phil catching up on family gossip and local news. It wasn’t long before Phil was slumping over, his head coming to rest on Clint’s shoulder, full, warm, and drugged.

**Author's Note:**

> There are pictures on the original post on my tumblr: knitwritezombie.tumblr.com


End file.
